


I Have Dwelt 'Neath Southern Skies

by Rosie_Rues



Series: The Rising Storm [28]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-13
Updated: 2006-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-22 19:30:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosie_Rues/pseuds/Rosie_Rues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Norfolk, July, 1987.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Have Dwelt 'Neath Southern Skies

  
The fields seemed to go on forever, stretching, dark and flat, until they faded into the grey sky. There was no horizon, merely mist furring in the distance.

It was quiet.

Breathing in, Remus could taste the rain in the air. It had been a cold summer, and the brief sunshine of early July had faded toward autumn too soon. The wind was cold, and though the moon was long past, his bones ached with every gust.

He drew his cloak around him, though it didn’t help. It was too old, too thin. He would wear it until it fell to rags.

“Lupin,” Moody said quietly, and he turned, raising an eyebrow.

“There’s nothing here.”

Remus shrugged. It felt empty to him, but everywhere did these days. Even his dreams were full of dark hallways and calm, steel-grey seas.

“Makework,” Moody muttered bitterly, and turned to spit on the ground. “I’ll retire when I’m ready.”

Remus smiled at him, his mouth twisting up. He would have liked the chance to work until retirement, but, as things were, he wasn’t sure if it would be possible.

Moody began stumping back across the field, towards the copse where they had Apparated in. “If I were you, Lupin-”

“What?”

The old man turned to face him, his artificial eye a fraction slower to focus. “Get out of England.”

Andromeda Tonks had said the same thing, in a hastily scribbled note that had appeared under his pillow last week. _People are scared. This world came so close to extinction in the last war. They’re drawing in on themselves, rejecting everything they find threatening. I’ve heard the old anti-Muggle rhetoric again in recent weeks, and the Werewolf Registry’s throwing its weight around. They’re going to pass the Restriction of Earnings act, and I can’t stop them. When they do, the Ministry will have the right to inspect your accounts at will, and freeze them if you can’t account for every penny. It’s only going to get worse. If you need help getting out, come to me. You saved my daughter’s life. The debt is mine._

It had been the first time she openly acknowledged she knew his secret, though he suspected she’d worked it out years ago. He’d seen little of her in recent years, since – since _Sirius_ , and he suspected the offer was less kindness and more a desire to be rid of the debt.

“Where?” he asked, shrugging. “Prejudices are the same across Europe.”

“Then go beyond Europe,” Moody growled. “There’s nothing to keep you here.”

Instinctively, Remus looked north. Moody’s false leg dug deep into the earth on the next step, but he said nothing.

The field around the copse was full of rosemary, and the smell rose around him, green and sad. The wind hissed past them again, bringing the scent of other herbs, and sending his cloak fluttering out, thin fabric straining through the clasp. He pulled it close again. He couldn’t afford to replace it.

Three years ago, his hands stiff on the scissors, he’d cut out of it the label that read _S. Black, Gryffindor._ He’d thought about leaving it; about keeping that secret defiance close to his skin. He had been too afraid. If they found it, they might take it as an excuse to send him to Azkaban, to a cell beside Sirius’.

There were times, during the bleakest moons, when he wanted that.

If the world had been a safer place, he might have given them an excuse. There were rumours, though, that Voldemort was not dead, merely waiting to regain his strength. There were men who should have been in Azkaban who now walked free, powerful and influential, and all their enmity was focussed on one small boy.

If war was to come again, there was no one else left. James and Peter had died for Harry’s sake. Remus supposed he was obliged to survive for him.

Moody was still waiting for an answer, so he said, reluctantly, “I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t think too long.”

Remus shivered, looking back at the bleak fens. Perhaps, just perhaps, it was time to go.


End file.
